


The Hunter-Jumper Connection

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Never Met, English Riding, Fluff, Horseback Riding, Horses, M/M, Trainer Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: Stiles isnotexpecting a male model in tall boots and breeches to emerge, smiling at him a little hesitantly, and he has to take half a second to remind himself tokeep cool.





	The Hunter-Jumper Connection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smowkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smowkie/gifts).



> According to Smowkie, there are not enough sterek fics with horses. And since horses are one of my great passions, I figured I’d write a little something. There is a lot of English riding jargon in this fic, but you don’t really need to know it to understand the fic. I’m just using it to set Stiles up as competent. But if you’d like to see the difference between hunter and jumper, I’m providing links below.
> 
> Hunter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOT6a3ax37M&t=466s (this video is really long, sorry! Just watch a round or two to get the idea)  
> Jumper: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFoEkASQNu0 (this is a jump-off, so it’s even more aggressive and fast than regular jumper rounds)

 

 

“Hey,” Erica says, just as Stiles is tugging off his boot. “You have a lesson trailering in, he should be here soon.”

“What?” Stiles says, pausing. “No, I don’t. I checked the schedule yesterday, and—”

“It was a last-minute add, but I knew you were free all afternoon,” Erica says sweetly. “I also know you’re trying to save money for a new hay shed, so.”

“You’re right,” Stiles sighs, looking at his sneakers longingly. He’d been planning to extensively groom Baxter and Mayor, his newest horses, to strengthen his bond with them. But if he wears his shoes into the arena, they’ll be full of dirt in no time. He shoves his foot back into his hot boot, starts lacing it up again. He loves being around horses, but he does _not_ love wearing boots all day. “What’s the name?”

“Derek Hale. And it looks like he’s here,” Erica says, glancing out the window. “At least he’s parking in the right place.”

“Small mercies,” Stiles says, standing up and heading out the office door.

He walks around the little two-horse trailer to the driver’s side of the truck, and the door promptly swings open. Stiles is _not_ expecting a male model in tall boots and breeches to emerge, smiling at him a little hesitantly, and he has to take half a second to remind himself to _keep cool_.

“Hi, you must be Derek,” he says, and the guy nods. “Can I see a negative Coggins?”

“Oh, of course,” Derek says, ducking back in the truck and handing Stiles the paperwork.

He looks over it carefully, then hands it back. “Thanks. Erica didn’t say much about you, so what are you wanting to work on today?”

“I’m a show-jumper,” Derek says, lowering the tailgate of the trailer. “And I get clear rounds pretty often, but my times are never that great. I want to improve my speed.”

“That can probably be achieved just by smoothing out your flatwork,” Stiles says, watching Derek carefully back a well-built bay warmblood out of the trailer. “But I won’t know until I see you ride.”

Derek just nods, ties his horse up to the side of the trailer. He’s clearly not a man of many words.

“Well, go ahead and get tacked up, and then you can head out to the covered arena to warm up. I’ll be out there in a minute,” Stiles says, then heads back to the office.

“Well,” Erica says, as soon as the door is shut behind him, “How is he? He sounded nice on the phone.”

“He sounds nice in person, too,” Stiles says, and realizes Erica couldn’t really see him from the office window. “He’s also super hot.”

Erica, terrible friend that she is, just laughs.

“Seriously, he looks like he stepped out of a riding-wear catalog. His breeches are _really_ tight,” Stiles grumbles.

“I thought they were supposed to be?” Erica asks mildly, but Stiles can see her smirk.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he says irritably, and heads back outside.

Derek’s already in the arena, trotting along the rail at an easy pace. Stiles heads for the center, watching Derek idly as he does. He seems like he knows what he’s doing, which is nice. It’s easier to work on refinement when someone’s already got the basics down.

 “You ready?” he asks when Derek halts next to him.

“Warm enough for flatwork,” Derek says, shrugging.

“Okay, do a nice big figure-eight at a canter, with flying changes in between,” Stiles says, and watches Derek’s smooth transition from walk to canter.

He’s a little distracted by the muscling in Derek’s thighs, by the breadth of his shoulders, but more than anything he’s distracted by Derek’s riding ability. He’s comfortable in the saddle without being sloppy; he has good posture without being stiff. He keeps his horse’s pace even and steady, not too heavy on the forehand.

He does have a few issues Stiles thinks he can work on, though.

“Bring it down to a trot, but keep circling,” Stiles says, and Derek promptly complies. He watches critically, just to make sure, then says, “Your horse is not a bicycle, Derek. You can’t steer with just your hands. Stop gripping so much with your knee, let your weight flow down to your lower leg and then _use_ it.”

Derek’s mouth flattens, and Stiles wonders if he’s angry at the critique, but quickly realizes that’s just Derek’s concentration-face.

“Okay, good,” Stiles says encouragingly. He has a reputation for being blunt, but he tries to provide praise when it’s due, too. “If you want the circle to be wider, don’t pull his head to the outside, _push_ with your leg. And try to get him to actually bend with the curve. You’ll be faster on course if your horse doesn’t turn like a brick.”

He has Derek change direction, and he’s definitely getting better, but. “Come over here.” He waits until Derek is halted next to him before saying, “You gotta trust your horse, Derek. He’s well trained and responsive to your aids, but you keep trying to strong-arm him.” He taps Derek’s elbow without actually meaning to, and covers it by moving to pat the horse’s neck. “What’s his name, anyway?” He usually asks that question a lot sooner, but he’d been distracted at the time.

“Cooper,” Derek says.

“Well, Cooper’s a good one,” Stiles says, and steps back. “Okay, start walking.” Once Derek does, he says, “Now, loosen your reins. No, all the way to the buckle,” he adds when Derek looks at him hesitantly. “You’re going to weave between all of these jumps, steering with just your legs. And no breaking into a trot!” he warns. “Keep your contact light.”

He sits down on the mounting block to watch, because at a walk this is going to take a little while. He smiles when Derek automatically lifts his hands to make a turn, then immediately puts them back down. He’s clearly making an effort to do as Stiles asks, and Stiles appreciates that.

They get smoother toward the end, both horse and rider figuring out what they’re doing, and it’s not long before Derek is riding back up to him.

“See?” Stiles says, grinning. “That was great!”

Derek smiles back, broadly, and Stiles is pretty sure his heart trips over itself in his chest. He clears his throat, trying to cover his reaction, and glances away. “You’re a jumper, so we might as well do a little jumping. Start with that crossrail,” he says, pointing over to the little jump set up for beginners. “Don’t give me that look,” he says when he catches Derek’s expression. “We’re not working on your jumping skills, we’re working on your turning. So do the crossrail, then take a nice curving line to that oxer. Okay?”

Derek nods, comes around to take the little jump on a straight line. As Stiles expected, Derek’s horse pays it no mind, barely lifting his feet to get over it. But Derek’s leg is _on_ a stride after they clear it, his hand gently guiding, and Cooper makes a neat turn and locks onto the oxer early, meaning Derek can adjust his stride to meet it confidently.

Stiles can’t help bouncing a little in excitement as they sail over it. He’s always loved seeing great riding in action.

“Awesome,” he says when Derek trots back over. “Now, let’s add a few more jumps to that.”

He has Derek do an entire course of bending lines and serpentines, and he nails it, with only one near-miss when he accidentally overcorrects Cooper with a too-aggressive hand.  

“Still gotta work on those stiff elbows,” Stiles says when Derek’s slowing down after the last fence. “But otherwise, you’re doing great. Just don’t forget to keep practicing, okay?”

“Of course,” Derek says, looking pleased. “You’ve been a great help.”

Stiles walks with him as he rides over to his trailer, and watches him efficiently untack Cooper. Once Derek’s traded the bridle for a halter, he turns to Stiles and asks, “You have a wash rack?”

“Yeah, down at the end of the aisle. I’ll show you,” Stiles says, leading him toward the barn.

Once he’s got Derek headed in the right direction, he steps into the tack room for his lesson horses. He makes sure no one put a sweaty saddle pad on the stack, straightens the brushes in the grooming kits, hangs the bridles more evenly on their hooks. He’s ostensibly neatening up, but really he’s just waiting for Derek to get back.

Soon enough there’s the clip clop of hooves down the aisle, and steps out to see Cooper, freshly hosed off, and Derek, only a little damp, heading his way.

“You can graze him over here,” Stiles says, leading the way. “If you have a little time to let him dry in the sun.”

“I was hoping to,” Derek says, letting out some of the lead line, and Cooper eagerly starts eating. He pulls him up after a few moments, leads him a few steps further before letting him tear into the grass again. “You’re not a jumper, are you? What kind of riding do you do?”

Stiles laughs. “You don’t know? Usually people who come for lessons with me know what I ride.”

Derek shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “You came highly recommended, and I needed help quick, since I have a show in two days.” He shrugs. “So I didn’t ask too many questions.”

“Hey, it’s cool, I was just surprised. I do have jumpers come for lessons every now and again,” Stiles says easily. “But it’s usually hunter riders that want my help, since that’s what I ride.” He catches Derek’s look, grins. “I know, I don’t seem like hunter material.”

“Just seems a bit slow and steady for you,” Derek says.

“Well, I used to do jumper. I was pretty wild when I was a kid, untrained but too brave, and I did a lot of reckless seat-of-my-pants riding. And it just got worse, after—my dad eventually got tired of it, and hired a trainer to teach me hunter. Made me focus on my form, on control, on a steady and well-paced ride. He wouldn’t let me compete in anything except hunter. And at first I was _terrible_. Sloppy and undisciplined. And for a long while, I hated hunter and everything about it. But eventually I began to appreciate the value of being a solid, reliable rider. Someone who could get the exact number of strides they wanted between fences. Someone with good form, that made it easier for the horse to carry them. Someone who used the lightest aids possible to get the response they wanted. And I became very competitive.”

Derek grins. “I could see that.”

Stiles grins back. “I won the Maclay before I aged out. Won a bunch of other things, too. And I did it all while looking impeccable,” he says, elbowing Derek playfully.

“Yeah, not so much a thing in the jumper ring,” Derek says, laughing. “Except maybe at grand prix level.”

All of them, including Cooper, are startled when Derek’s phone goes off. “Sorry,” Derek says, silencing it. He takes another look at the screen. “Shoot, I didn’t realize the time. I better get going. Thank you again for all your help,” he says, extending his hand.

Stiles shakes it cheerfully. “Anytime,” he says, meaning it. He’d really love to see Derek again, even if it’s just for another lesson.

He watches Derek load up and make his way down the long driveway, then heads back inside the office. “Not a word,” he says to Erica, who simply mocks him with facial expressions instead.

He sits down in his part of the office, clicks through his emails, and pointedly reminds himself that he probably won’t see Derek again.

 

*

 

He’s in the crossties, trying to untangle Jake’s mane, when there’s a soft sound behind him.

When he turns, he sees Derek standing in the aisle, a little smile on his face.

“Shit, do you have another lesson I didn’t know about?” he blurts, because he wouldn’t put that past Erica.

“No, don’t worry,” Derek says, laughing. “I just didn’t have a chance to really see the place last time I was here.” He glances around at the stalls. “It seems nice.”

Stiles shakes his head. “You don’t have to be polite, I know it’s kind of run down. It was my mom’s dream to have a stable, and even though he never really got that into horses, my dad did his best to keep it running. Now I mostly handle things, though he still comes around to help out, sometimes. And comes to see me ride, when I have the chance to actually do that,” he says wryly, going back to Jake’s mane.

“The stable looks pretty great to me,” Derek says softly, moving around to his other side.

When Stiles glances over, he sees Derek’s grabbed a comb, and is neatly unknotting a section of mane. “I used to be a groom,” he says when he catches Stiles watching. “Don’t be too impressed. I was a kid, I had nimble hands. Of course they were going to have me braiding and detangling.”  

“You still have the knack,” Stiles says, pulling leaves and twigs out of another clump of mane. “And I appreciate it, because I was considering roaching it if I couldn’t get it combed out. This old boy likes rolling too much, and the tangles get pretty bad.”

He ends up leaving the mane to Derek, since he’s making great progress, and brushes out Jake’s tail, which isn’t nearly so snarled up.

When they’re done, he says, “I’m going to turn him out in the back pasture, want to come?”

“Sure,” Derek says, stepping out of the way as Stiles unclips Jake and leads him out.

“He’s retired,” Stiles explains as they head behind the barn and pass the hay shed. “So he mostly spends his days with the other old folks out in the pasture, living the dream.”

“It’s nice that you keep them,” Derek says, patting Jake’s neck fondly.

“Can’t quite bear to let them go,” Stiles says, shrugging. “Besides, it gives the younger riders some gentle horses to dote on. Jake here is happy to be brushed for hours.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Derek says. “Horses like affection as much as people do.”

Stiles nods. “Hey, before I forget to ask—how’d you and Cooper do at the show?”

“Got third place,” Derek says, looking pleased. “Better than we’ve done for a while. Our jump-off round wasn’t that fast, but it was _smooth_ , and that made a big difference.” He shrugs. “Still got some work to do, though.”  

“That’s great, I’m glad you placed,” Stiles says, unlatching the pasture gate and leading Jake in. Derek helpfully swings it shut behind him. “Are you thinking about coming back for another lesson?”

“That depends,” Derek says.

Stiles lets Jake loose, steps back out of the pasture and latches the gate behind him. “Depends on what?” he asks, searching Derek’s face.

“On whether or not you’ll date a student,” Derek says, his smile suddenly looking nervous.

“What? My policy is— _oh_. You want to date me?”

“If that’s okay,” Derek says tentatively. “Can I take you out tonight?”

“I’d love to,” Stiles says, smiling what is probably an absurd amount. “But I have lessons until five, and then I have to feed everyone after that, so. Is that going to be too late?”

“How about I pick something up, and we can eat here?” Derek says easily, looking pleased by the prospect. “Then you don’t have to feel rushed.”

“That’d be great,” Stiles says, and can’t resist brushing a hand across Derek’s shoulder before they head back to the stable. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

*

 

It’s probably not the most romantic first date, eating pizza in the empty breakroom of his stable’s office, the sound of horses stomping and whinnying in the background, and, despite Stiles’ best efforts, the whole place smelling faintly of hay and grain. But despite all that, he thinks it’s pretty perfect. And judging by the smile on Derek’s face, he thinks so, too.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had to really work to keep this fic reined in, it could have easily been 5k longer, because I am always able to ramble about horses...
> 
> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
